Redwall: New Blood
by Hunter Stag
Summary: When Redwall faces a threat thought long defeated, an inexperienced platoon of young Long Patrol hares, Redwallers, and Guosim must hold out until help arrives. Rated T for violence.
1. Unity

A chill autumn breeze blew over the former battlefield, carrying the odd leaf from the nearby forest as if heralding the fact that winter was on its way. No bird passed over the field but for the crows and ravens that circled overhead, waiting for the field to clear before they descended to eat their fill of the dead bodies.

Though the field was covered in bodies, most of the still-living vermin were gathered in one place, the winners surrounding the losers in a great crowd of hundreds. They were gathered around a hundred other vermin, all kneeling on the ground with their paws tied. Everywhere they turned, swords, spears, and bows were pointed at them. The place was a riot of laughter and taunting, the defeated group shying away from each weapon.

"What's the matter, filth? You scared?"

"Come on, I haven't killed enough of you today! One of you stand up!"

"We warned you before that you couldn't stand against our chieftain! You'll be lucky if he doesn't kill you!"

"Hush, all of you! He's coming!" The horde fell silent as the back rows began parting, though many of them looked down at the rat that sat in front of the rest of the enemy tribe as they stepped away.

The rat in question tried his best not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of death and blood that hung in the air around him. The previously idyllic plain that he knelt on was covered in the bodies of other vermin, their fur decorated with all manner of different tattoos. The rest of his tribe, around fivescore left after the battle, knelt behind him, surrounded by the victors of the battle.

The rat looked up at the fox that stood over him, and more specifically the hilt of the sword that the fox's paw rested on. The fox's face, emblazoned with two red stripes that ran down his muzzle and a collection of red dots that sprinkled his cheeks, was twisted in a smug smile. "The Juskator," he said, looking away from the rat and up at the rest of the Juska tribe that knelt behind Tor. "That's what you called yourselves, yes?"

Tor simply spat. "Aye, and we'll remain Juskator whether or not we're part of your horde, Shaga Zann!"

Zann laughed, drawing his sword. It was a curved blade, wickedly sharp and shining in the half-light of the overcast day. He began to stride around Tor and his tribe of Juska, his green eyes sweeping across the battlefield, at the arrows and tattered banners that stuck out of the ground. "You truly think that you're the first Juska to say that to me? Look around you, Tor. I have every Juska tribe at my beck and call."

Tor looked around at the Juska tribes that stood around him. Each with a different tribe's tattoos, but all with the red muzzle stripes of the Juskahorde—Zann's army, formed from the various Juska tribes. He turned around to face Zann. "Just because the rest of these tribes were too weak to see how much of a fool you are doesn't mean that the Juskator are the same, fox! None of them will join you as long as I'm alive!"

"Truly?" Zann raised an eyebrow and turned to the remaining Juskator. "Juska! For many seasons you've had Tor as your chieftain! Yet here he has led you to defeat against my Juskahorde, and now refuses to admit defeat! Who will you follow? This fool of a chieftain? Or me? The Taggerung of the Juska?"

Tor's eyes widened as Zann extended his left paw, showing a birthmark on each of his pads. Altogether the dark marks formed the shape of an asphodel. While many of the Juskator gasped at the sight of it, Tor spat again. "And what beast says that that's the mark of a Taggerung?"

"I do, fool!" The wizened voice of another fox broke the silence of the surrounding Juskahorde, and the crowd parted to allow a male fox, his fur silver with age and covered with a grey cloak, to go through. He leaned heavily on an oaken staff, which he pointed at Tor. "Do you not know the legend of the Taggerung? They will hold a birthmark on their paw, and Shaga Zann holds that mark!" The fox gestured around him to the other Juskahorde vermin. "Do you not trust the word of a seer, rat?"

Tor spat for a third time. "What makes you think that I ever trusted the word of a seer to begin with? The Juskator have never had a seer, and we never will! All that matters in this life is what we make of it! Your insane mutterings are why our seer is strung up from a tree branch, as you undoubtedly saw!"

"Then without a seer you are no Juska at all!" Zann shouted. He turned to the rest of the Juskator. "If you all truly claim to be Juska, then can you not see that I am the Taggerung? Look around you! All of the Juska tribes are at my command! Their chieftains dead, their seers slain, all defeated in battle by me! Your tribe, your Juskator, is the last to fall!" He knelt down, looking all of them, from the smallest rat to the slimmest stoat to the tallest fox, in the eye. "Would you rather not be under a true Taggerung, rather than your failure of a chieftain?" He swept a paw out towards the rest of his tribe. "If you truly wish to be a part of the Juskahorde…you need only stand."

Tor watched, aghast, as the Juskator began to stand. Other members of the Juskahorde slit their bonds, and they joined with the crowd surrounding him. "Cowards!" he shouted. "Traitors! You'll all die for this, I swear it!"

"And tell me, rat, how will you swear their deaths if you are not alive to see it?" Zann asked as he swung his sword in a few testing swipes. "If you truly call yourself a Juska and wish to retain your tribe…you need only to best me in a duel." He flourished his blade and gave a mocking bow. "If you win, the horde is yours."

Tor snarled and started to struggle. "Cut my bonds and I'll cut your throat, fox!"

"Very well." Zann stepped backwards and motioned to one of the horde. The stoat in question slit Tor's bonds with a knife. The rat spun immediately, pulling the stoat's sword from its sheath and charging at Zann as he screamed in rage. Zann pulled to the side, dodging around the rat's outstretched blade. Tor had enough time to realize his error before Zann's sword swung back around.

The Juskahorde raised a cheer as Tor's head rolled on the ground, the rat's body following it a few seconds later. "Shaga Zann Taggerung! Tagggerung! Juskaaaaaaa!"

Zann wiped his sword clean of blood on Tor's tunic, then sheathed it. He raised a paw, quieting the horde. "My Juskahorde!" he said, his voice carrying across the silent plains. "With the Juskator joining us, our grand mission is nearly complete! For many seasons we have fought across the western shores, conquering other Juska tribes! Now, with the Juskator, we can move on to our real goal: Mossflower!" He paused as the Juska cheered. "There lies the crown jewel of that forest, Redwall Abbey. When we take it, we will rule Mossflower Woods as we have been destined to do! On this, I swear as your Taggerung!"

"Taggerung! Taggerung! Taggerung!" the Juskahorde shouted, thrusting their weapons in the air.

"We are nearly ready, my lord," the fox seer said as he watched Shaga Zann come into his tent. "Now that you have united the Juska, we need only to march to Mossflower this spring."

"I'm aware of this, Gorus," Zann replied. He sat down before the fire that the old fox had started, looking up at him. "Have you had any more visions? Do you see what we must do?"

"I only see visions of our victory, my lord," Gorus said. He reached into his cloak and tossed a pawful of powder onto the fire. It flared bright green, bathing both foxes in a baleful glow. "I see your sword leading us against Redwall, and only a few opposing us. Even the stripedogs of Salamandastron, that accursed fortress, will arrive too late to help them."

"Salamandastron will be next after Redwall Abbey is ours," Zann said, beginning to sharpen his sword with a whetstone. "The woods are full of creatures that would join us for a chance at revenge against the abbey and the mountain. With them on our side we will break them over our knees like a rotten stick."

"Indeed, my lord," Gorus said, grinning. "After all, who can stand against the Taggerung? Your name, Zann, means 'mighty one' in the old Juska tongue. And who can stand against the Taggerung, especially one that has brought all of the Juska under their rule?" Gorus reached out and put a paw on his chieftain's shoulder. "You know that I have been with this tribe ever since it was the Juskagor, under your father's rule. He was content to sit on his laurels and grow fat, but not you. That is why you killed him, and took the tribe for your own. Before then I had watched you grow into the great warrior you are now. And by the end of this, I hope to see you as king of all Mossflower, and undisputed ruler of the Juska. One of those has already come to pass."

Zann gently swept Gorus's paw away from him. "Your words have always given me reassurance, Gorus. And I will rely heavily on your visions in the days to come. I trust that you will not disappoint me."

"I will do what the fates wish, my lord," Gorus said. "And the fates say that it is your destiny as the Taggerung to rule Mossflower, and dominate these lands."

"Yes, I know." Zann waved a paw. "Enough for now, Gorus. Autumn is coming to an end, and we must prepare for winner." He rose. "Our conquest will begin in the spring. Be sure that you're ready."

Gorus nodded as Zann left the tent. As Zann closed the tent flap behind him, Gorus took more powder out of his cloak and threw it on the fire. The green flames turned purple, and Gorus shut his eyes. He breathed in the smoke, allowing his sight to dissolve into visions. He once again saw Zann at the head of a mighty army of Juska, with the sandstone of Redwall Abbey before them. In front of them were woodlanders, fools that were resisting the Juskahorde, but only a few. The rest were inside, cowering before Zann's might.

Gorus opened his eyebrows, pulling his cloak closer in for himself as a cold autumn breeze blew in through the tent flap. It would take a long time before the Juskahorde was ready to march on Redwall Abbey, and it would take even longer for the horde to arrive at the place. But for as long as the life remained in him, Gorus would support Zann in his dreams.

"Juskahorde!" Gorus's thoughts were interrupted by Zann bellowing the word across the camp. No small feat, as the hundreds of tents that made up the horde's camp stretched far across the plains. Gorus heard the various sounds of the camp come to a halt. Whetstones were sharpening no swords; no Juska gambled or squabbled over trinkets or food, and all chatter stopped as Zann stepped onto a small rock outcropping in front of his tent.

"I have already said that with this victory over the former Juskator, we have united the Juska tribes under one rule. _My_ rule." From the tent flap, Gorus could see some of the former Juskator vermin already with Juskahorde tattoos fresh on their fur, the red stripes and cheek dots melding with the blue lightning bolts on the Juskator's cheeks and brows.

"Soon, as I have often told you, we will march for Mossflower and Redwall Abbey. The journey will be long, but do not fear. We have all of winter to prepare, and even longer to get to Redwall itself. Many legends surround that place, yes, and many warlords have met their end attempting to take it…but not me. Not _us_. The Juskahorde will win this time. We will break Redwall's gates, we will destroy its orchards, burn its crops, and tear down its vaunted abbey brick by brick!"

The Juskahorde cheered, thrusting their weapons into the air as Zann continued to speak.

"And once the Abby is ours, and all of Mossflower is ours, no longer will the hares of the Long Patrol and their badger mountain thwart us! We will reign supreme over these woodlands, with me as your Warlord! For who, I ask you, can stand against the Taggerung? What foolish beast would dare even try?"

Gorus nodded approvingly as the Juska cheered again, chanting his name as he continued.

"Shaga Zann! Shaga Zann! Taggerung! Taggerung! Juskaaaaaaa!"

"Let the woodlanders tremble!" Zann shouted, as the Juska began slamming their swords on their shields, filling the camp with the sounds of clashing weaponry and more shouting. "Let the hares try and stop us! They will break on our new fortress like water on rock! The birds that even now feast on those former Juska that dared to oppose us will feast on the flesh of fallen woodlanders and hares, and those that live will only live to serve us!"

Zann thrust his sword to the air, the Juska punctuating each shouted word with a bang of their shields while they echoed the word back to him. "Juskahorde!"

 _"Juskahorde!"_

"Taggarung!"

 _"Taggarung!"_

" _Shagga Zann!"_

 _"SHAGGA ZANN!"_

Zann let a feral grin cross his lips as his chest heaved for breath while the Juska began chanting his name again, beating on their shields and roaring with bloodlust. He waited until the noise had died down, and smiled down on them once again. "Prepare yourselves for the winter, Juska. For when Spring finally arrives, we will march on Mossflower, and the woodlanders will tremble at our coming."

With that, the Juska split apart. Many went back to sharpening weapons, cooking meals, or squabbling and gambling with their comrades. Others left the camp, shouldering bows or axes to hunt and look for firewood in the nearby forest.

"Can you see him, I wonder, Chief Gor, from Hellgates?" Gorus muttered to himself as Zann began to make his way through the camp, offering the odd bit of encouragement here, a word of advice there, swordplay advice somewhere else. "Can you see your son, who you were content to ignore and use simply as a trophy? He has surpassed you in every way, as any chieftain would want. And soon he will become the greatest Juska chieftain to ever walk this world."


	2. Mission

"I don't know what I've been told!"

"I don't know what I've been told!"

"But this year's winter is bally cold!"

"But this year's winter is bally cold!"

"But luckily we've got some scoff!"

"But luckily we've got some scoff!"

"To take this winter's edges off!"

"To take this winter's edges off!"

"Bally good, chaps!" Lieutenant Nathaniel Longlegs Oakear said to the thirty hares behind him as they marched through the main gate of Salamandastron, out of the chilly western winds that came in off the sea. "At ease, wot! Police yer gear and meet in the mess hall for luncheon! Dismissed!"

The rest of the platoon saluted and broke up from their marching formation, while Nathaniel unbuckled his rapier and tucked it under his arm. That done he began to walk around the platoon, many of whom were panting slightly even as they chattered away to one another. All of them threw him casual salutes as they passed, which he returned.

"Starbuck, nice marching out there today."

"Thank you, sah!"

"Gale, you're still out of step a tick, keep in rhythm next time, wot!"

"Yes, sah!"

"Quinn, next time keep that lance up, chum! Nearly poked Gracey in the scut more 'n once, wot!"

"Sorry, sah! An' sorry, Gracey!"

"Quill, next time we're out there I expect ya t' yell in cadence with everybeast else! Don't think I don't hear you!"

"Sorry, sah!"

"Tom! You almost outpaced _me_ there while we were out! Slow down some!"

"Och, 'm sorry, Lieutenant! I'll try'n keep me footpaws in their proper place!"

The rest of the patrol got similar admonishments, but the entrance hall to Salamandastron was still filled with good-natured talk and laughter between all thirty of the platoon's hares. Nathaniel nodded as they all walked by, then followed them up the stairs. Some of the hares dropped back, and soon Nathaniel felt himself scooped up in the great big arms of Tom Coarsegrass, the young northern hare wrapping his lieutenant in a rib-cracking hug.

"Lookie what I be catchin' here, boyos! It's our scrawny new lieutenant!"

"Careful there, Tom, you'll crease his uniform!" Quill said, grinning as he and his twin brother Quinn came up to either side of the northerner. "Go easy, old chap!"

"Yeah, you big lummox, gerrof me!" Nathaniel said, struggling his way free of the northerner's brawny arms. He whirled around and tossed a few playful jabs at Tom's chest, making him grunt. Tom took a few steps backwards, holding his paws up as he hid behind the twins to escape his annoyed officer. "I'm the bloody lieutenant, wot!"

"Like we don't know already, Nate!" Quinn said as he gave Nathaniel an elbow in the shoulder. "Seems t'me like yer uniform's getting a bit too big for yer-woof!" He doubled over slightly as Nathaniel's sheathed saber jabbed him in the stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Nathaniel smirked at the three of them, shaking his sheathed saber at them. "You all bally well know that I only got promoted two weeks ago, wot! I haven't changed even a bit!"

"That much is for sure," Quill said, chuckling to himself as the foursome finally entered the Salamandastron mess hall. The place was crowded with hundreds of other hares, all chattering away to one another as they packed away near-mountains of food. The four hares went over to the left side of the hall where the rest of Nathaniel's platoon sat. As Quinn, Quill, and Tom sat down before him, Nathaniel took a look at them all.

There was Tom, who took up the space of two hares and ate just as much. There were Quill and Quinn, the incorrigible twins who among their dark fur each had a light spot around each eye; Quinn had it around his left eye, while Quill had it around his right. There was Gracepaw, also known as Gracey, the platoon's lone female hare, who was giggling as she watched Tom stuff as many rolls into his mouth as he could at once. There was Starbuck, light-furred and lighthearted, telling jokes to the other members of the platoon. Gale, Kendall, Toren, Rockford, Larkin, Daren, and more. Good hares, one and all. They made him proud.

"You gonna sit down an' eat, Nathan?" Gracepaw said as she watched him stare at the platoon. "Tom's gonna eat all of your food at this rate!"

"'M not!" Tom said through a mouthful of salad.

"You'd better not be, Coarsegrass!" Nathaniel said as he sat down and set his sabre next to him, well within distance to whack the northerner's paw. "You're eating more than your fair share!"

General Fenton Hackwood chuckled to himself as he heard the ruckus from Nathaniel's platoon, tilting his ears in the direction of the young hares as he looked at the other officers at the mess hall's head table. "I'd say we made a good decision promotin' young Oakear t'lieutenant, wouldn't you chaps say?"

Major Scrubfoot nodded as Private Kendall and Corporal Daren playfully fenced one another with their tableware. "I'd say so, Hack. We've needed some new blood in the Long Patrol for a while now, wot?"

"Long as Oakear doesn't let it get in the way of their discipline," another Major, a female hare named Sharpeye, muttered to herself. "They're all barely out of their leveret years, and I still don't think it was a good idea to not put an older offisah in charge of 'em. Not to mention Coarsegrass; the Northern Company's hares are already getting a reputation of bein' belligerent."

"Coarsegrass is a good lad, Major Sharpeye," Scrubfoot said. "The Northern Patrol wouldn't have sent us a hunnerd other hares if they didn't think they were their best, not or that they couldn't be any more disciplined than our own!"

"The Major has a point, Sharpeye," a deeper voice said from behind the officers. "And besides, were you so different when _you_ were young?"

"Atten- _shun!"_ Hackwood barked. All talk in the mess immediately ceased as every hare in the place stood and saluted, turning to face Salamandastron's Badger Lady, Aurelia Skystripe. The badger's wise eyes swept the entire room before nodding.

"At ease, all of you. Continue with your meals."

The assembled hares sat, and chat started up again as Aurelia sat down in the biggest chair at the table, where Salamandastron's Badger Lord (or in this case Badger Lady) always sat. Aurelia looked at Major Sharpeye, raising an eyebrow. "Go on, Major. You were saying?"

"Um…well, marm, what I was saying is, Oakear's platoon shouldn't have somebeast so close to their own age leading them like this, wot. He doesn't have the experience, he won't be able to keep discipline with all of them."

"Tell me, Layra," Aurelia said. "You remember Captain Oakear, don't you? Your own commanding officer?"

"Of course I do, m'lady!" Sharpeye said, her ears going bolt upright in indignation. "He was m'own commanding officer, an' one of the best th' Patrol's ever had, wot!"

"Indeed he was." Aurelia nodded. "He was here when I was still young, He never took a promotion beyond Captain because it meant he'd never be able to go out in the field with his troops again."

"But he was different, marm!" Sharpeye said. "He was a soldier, through 'n through, wot!"

"And he was also a role model for many of the younger hares in the mountain, including his son." Aurelia nodded in Nathaniel's direction, where he was shadowboxing with another member of the platoon, a young hare by the name of Swiftsky. "Nathaniel wanted more than anything to live up to his father's example. I believe that he'll become a very capable Long Patrol hare in his own right."

"I hope so, m'lady," Scrubfoot said as he finally got back to the nutbread with clover butter he was eating.

"Easy there, Starbuck, don't stress the line too much!" Kendall shouted as he and the rest of the platoon watched Starbuck strain at his fishing line. Down below in the surf a fish turned the spot of water it was in into a frothing soup as it thrashed on the line. "Pull gentle, bucko!"

"Ach, he needs t' give the saucy thing a big tug!" Tom shouted from his own seat a short way down the beach. "Just pull it out quick!"

"You can do it, chum!" Nathaniel said, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he and some of the other platoon hares huddled up around their fire. "Just keep at it!"

"I think…I think…I say, chaps! I've got 'im!" Starbuck shouted, giving a final, mighty tug on the line. The fish, a massive trout, came flying out of the water a surprising distance. It slammed into Starbuck's chest and the young hare fell backward, kicking and struggling with the fish as some of the other platoon members, including Tom, Quill, and Quinn, came running over to him. The hares all fell over in a tangle of long legs and ears as they struggled to hold the beast down.

"Bring a knife, somebeast! It's gonna get away!"

"Hold 'im still, lads, I've got it!"

"Ow! Daren, you nicked me!"

"Well I told you to stand still, lad! There! I've got 'im!" Daren triumphantly held the trout aloft by its tail. "We did it, chaps!"

Nathaniel joined in the general applause, until the sound of running footpaws reached his ears. Raising a paw for silence, he and the rest of the platoon watched as a hare sprinted along the beach, towards the mountain's main gate. As the three entered, Nathaniel stood up. "All right, you lot, time for light's out, wot? Get that fish to the cooks, maybe we'll see 'im tomorrow!"

The platoon grumbled somewhat as their night of fun came to an end, but as they obediently filed into the mountain another platoon member, a hare by the name of Willow, walked up next to him.

"What d'you suppose the runner brought, sah?" he asked, looking up towards the mountain peak, where the forge's light made it seem as if the ancient volcano spewed fire once again. "Somethin' for Her Ladyship?"

"I dunno, Will," Nathaniel replied. "But I'll wager we'll find out soon."

As they stepped inside, a voice stopped Nathaniel and his platoon in their tracks.

"Oakear!" Hackwood barked from where he stood at the bottom of the mountain's main stairway. "Her Ladyship wants to see you. And _only_ you. Now."

Nathaniel looked at the rest of his hares, who stared at him in surprise. He turned back to Hackwood. "Erm, you sure it can't wait until tomorrow, general?"

"Now means now, Lieutenant," Hackwood said. "Come on." He then went up the staircase. Nathaniel cast one last look at his platoon and followed the old hare up, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up.

"Uh, sah, if I may ask…would this happen to be what that Runner brought in?"

Hackwood turned to look at Nathaniel, his brow tightening around the monocle he wore. "You'll see when we see Her Ladyship." With that he turned, leaving Nathaniel in silence. They made the rest of the journey up the mountain in silence, passing the leveret dormitories where the hares too young to join the Long Patrol slept, and eventually up to the apartments of the mountain's Badger Lord or Lady. As they approached the large doors, Nathaniel's ears perked up as he heard voices inside, but was jerked to a stop when Hackwood placed a paw on his chest.

"You'll wait out here, lad," he said. "I'll go tell 'er Ladyship that you're here."

"Yes, sah." Nathaniel put his paws behind his back and stood at parade rest as Hackwood entered the room, while Nathaniel craned his ears to listen to the conversation.

"And you're sure of this, Corporal Reeve?" Lady Aurelia said. "Eight hundred vermin?"

"That's what I saw, m'Lady," Corporal Reeve said. "I ran as fast as I could to—thank you, Major, marm—to warn you about 'em. Figured that you'd want to do something."

"And I do. Thank you, Corporal. Finish your tea, and then you're dismissed."

"Yes, marm."

"I thought we'd given the Juska a jolly good drubbing back in Russano's days, m'Lady," Scrubfoot said. "What would they be doing back, and so close to Mossflower?"

"Russano may have driven them away, Major, but he did not slay them to the last, as he should have," Aurelia's voice replied. "Of course, his dislike for battle was a noble thing, but not the reasonable one." Nathaniel heard a sigh. "Of course, now this is a different Juska. They're more united and above all, more numerous. And they may gain more members as they march north."

"But do you still think this is a good idea, m'lady?" Sharpeye's voice asked. "Sending Oakear's platoon to Redwall? We should send a bigger force, maybe fivescore, with experienced hares, not leverets!"

"Those hares are grown, Major, and you will refer to them as such!" Hackwood barked, making Nathaniel flinch with the force of his voice. "And if Lady Aurelia wishes to send them to Redwall, they'll go."

"Speaking of Lieutenant Oakear," Aurelia said, "bring him in, Major Scrubfoot."

"Yes, marm." Scrubfoot pushed the door open, beckoning to Nathaniel. "In you come, laddy buck."

"Yes, sir." Nathaniel snapped to attention, saluted, and entered the room. He found a tense gathering of hares; all of the mountain's senior officers, and Lady Aurelia herself. As he entered, Corporal Reeve left, and the two younger hares exchanged glances.

"Lieutenant Oakear," Aurelia said. "I have a mission in mind for your platoon."

"Whatever you command, m'Lady, we'll do it." Nathaniel said, saluting. "'Pon my oath as a Long Patrol hare."

"I'm sure you will." Aurelia gave the young hare a gentle smile. "We received a report from Corporal Reeve that a large horde of vermin are gathering in the south. Do you know of the Juska tribes?"

"Only what they taught us in lessons, m'Lady," Nathaniel replied. "Not much other'n Lord Russano gave 'em a bally good drubbin' while he was still Badger Lord here."

Aurelia shook her head. "Yes, I thought as much. Unfortunately it seems like the Juska have come under new leadership. They have been united under a single tribe, and they are marshaling. While we do not know if they intend to march on Mossflower or not, we must be prepared. And that is where you come in." She turned to one of the other hares. "Captain Layrunner, the map please."

As Layrunner handed the rolled up parchment to Aurelia, she nodded her huge, striped head in the female hare's direction. "Captain Layrunner is the commanding officer of our runner hares. I'm sure you've met?"

Nathaniel saluted and nodded to Layrunner, who returned the gesture. He then turned back to Aurelia as she began to speak again. "What do you need for us, marm?"

"I require you and your platoon to prepare yourselves for an extended mission to Redwall, immediately." Aurelia chuckled as she saw Nathaniel's ears fly upward in surprise.

"Redwall Abbey, marm?" Nathaniel asked, his eyes wide. " _The_ Redwall Abbey? You sure you're not talkin' about some other Redwall place?"

"No, Lieutenant," Aurelia said, doing her best not to laugh. "I do mean the one and only Redwall Abbey. Your mission there will be to stay and protect the Redwallers until such time as I send word that the threat has either been dealt with or is not coming in the direction of Mossflower. Is that clear?"

Nathaniel saluted, his face set with determination and no small amount of excitement. "Clear as th' sky on a summer's day, marm!"

"Very good." Aurelia nodded. "You and your hares will leave tomorrow morning. If you make good time, you'll likely make it before the first snows fall."

"Yes, m'Lady," Nathaniel said. "We'll be ready at dawn."

"Make sure you are." Aurelia nodded again, this time at the door. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Yes, marm!" Nathaniel turned on his heel and left the room.

Nathaniel's platoon was still not asleep by the time their lieutenant entered the dormitory, and as soon as he entered Nathaniel found himself swarmed by thirty different hares, all jabbering excitedly as they interrogated him.

"What did they want with you, Nate?"

"Did you get demoted?"

"Are you getting kicked out?"

"Does Lady Aurelia want you to be one of her personal guards?"

"No, no, no, quiet, _quiet!"_ Nathaniel shouted, stopping all of the questions at once. "Listen up, everybeast. Lady Aurelia has a special mission for us. We're leaving tomorrow to go to Redwall Abbey."

"What for?" asked one of the hares. His name was Cadoc, and he was the platoon's assigned runner.

"Apparently there's a huge horde of vermin lurkin' around, and Lady Aurelia wants us to go to Redwall and protect 'em until the Patrol can give 'em a good drubbing." Nathaniel looked at his troops. "I want all of you ready to go at dawn. We'll be on a forced march, so we can get there before the snow falls."

"Yes, sir!" The platoon saluted.

The next morning, Nathaniel, his tunic immaculate and with his sabre polished to a mirror sheen, marched to the front of his platoon. Standing in a narrow column three wide and ten deep, the platoon was fully armed and kitted with everything from knapsacks, to cloaks, to weapons.

"Sergeant Coarsegrass," he called, making Tom snap to attention. "Are all hares ready?"

"Ready as th' day they were born, sir!" the Northerner hare said, saluting. "All kitted out with fresh vittles, gear, arms, and tunics!"

"Sergeant Thrush, are our supplies sufficient to make the journey?"

"Yes, sah!" Gracepaw snapped a salute of her own. "With two extra days' worth in case we get off track!"

"Which is not going to happen, is it, Corporal Kendall?" Nathaniel asked, turning to the young hare, who served as the platoon scout.

"No, sah!" Kendall replied.

"Sergeant Toren! Your skirmishers are all in order?"

"Yes, sir!" The brown hare in question, not quite as muscular as Tom and with a longbow and a quiver of arrows on his back, saluted, as did the ten other hares he led, similarly armed.

"Jolly good!" Nathaniel turned to the front. "Long Patrol! To Redwall Abbey, double-time!"

With that the hares began to jog, exiting the main gate of the mountain and turning east, heading towards the border of Mossflower Woods. As they left, Lady Aurelia watched them from the window of her forge, the other senior officers of the Long Patrol standing with her.

"Do you think they'll be alright, m'Lady?" Sharpeye asked.

"Fates willing, they'll never even have to unsheathe their swords," Aurelia said. "But for now, we must focus less on them, and more on the vermin." She turned to Major Scrubfoot. "I want runners following that horde, Major. As closely as possible, but not close enough to be spotted. Is that understood?"

"Yes, marm." Scrubfoot saluted and left the room to see to the scouts. Aurelia then turned to the other officers. "I want the mountain placed on watch, and ready to move on a moment's notice if the Juska go anywhere near Redwall. Is that clear?"

"Yes, marm!" the other officers saluted in unison, and Aurelia nodded.

"Good. See to it."


	3. Winter

The first snow of winter lay thick on the lawn of Redwall Abbey. The pristine white blanket, spotlessly white, had coated the abbey's red sandstone walls and built up on the windows, the bare branches of the orchard, and the forest all around the abbey. The only things that marred the smooth surface of the snow were the forms of various young Redwallers, from teenagers to Dibbuns. Snowballs flew thick and fast, and the squeals and yells of Redwallers filled the still air.

High up in one of the orchard's trees, one particular creature looked down at the snowball fight with an analytical eye. The squirrel, his fur hidden beneath his snow-stained habit, hefted a snowball in one paw, watching a hedgehog below him stalked through the orchard, one large snowball cupped in both paws.

"You might as well come out, Sam," the hedgehog said. "I know you're here somewhere!"

"And you'd be right!" Samuel the squirrel said before he tossed his snowball down at the hedgehog's head. The hedgehog looked up just in time for the snowball to hit him right in the face. Sputtering and wiping his face the hedgehog staggered backwards as Sam leapt from the tree branch to the snow. He looked up at the hedgehog as he bent down as well, trying to put a new snowball together. "I gotta say, Moony, you're as blind as a bat sometimes!"

"Shut up, bush tail!" Moonspike the hedgehog rose back up and threw a snowball at Sam, who dove to the side while the snowball hit the tree. "Climbing trees is cheating!"

Sam pulled a face as he stood up with another snowball. "Cry all you want! Not my fault you can't climb!" He threw another snowball at Moonspike, hitting him in the shoulder. Another snowball flew back in response and hit Sam in the face, knocking him off his footpaws and back into the snow. Moonspike was on top of him immediately, the paws of both creatures flailing as they laughed and threw snow at each other.

"Dirty cheating bushtail!"

"Hahaha! Make me, pincushion!"

Eventually Moonspike pinned Sam's arms to the ground, both panting heavily as the shuffling of other Redwallers gathered around them.

"Alright, you two, break it up!" An older voice reached the ears of both Redwallers before they were pulled apart. Moonspike fell flat on his back next to Sam as they both looked up at the stern face of Abbot Siran. The squirrel was old, his formerly red fur completely silver with age, but his blue eyes were still crystal-clear. The scowl he wore on his face was friendly but stern, and both of the younger creatures laughed nervously as he glared at them.

"Ehehe…" Sam sat up, dusting snow off of his habit. "Sorry, Father Abbot. I guess we just got too into the snowball fight."

"So it seems." Abbot Siran folded his arms back into his habit, looking around as the other young Redwallers came over. "All the same, be more careful. If you get too into it somebeast could get hurt, and you know we have Dibbuns outside. Don't get too rambunctious."

"Yes, Father Abbot." Moonspike got up as well and bowed. "We're sorry."

"No need to apologize, my son." Siran gently patted Moonspike on his shoulder, wary of his quills. "Just be more careful." He looked at the other Redwallers. "As for the rest of you, it's time for lunch. Come in, and remember to dry yourselves off. I don't want anybeast catching a cold."

As the young creatures began to file into the abbey, Moonspike helped Sam up. "Sorry about that. You alright?"

"I'm fine." Sam dusted some more snow off of his habit, then did the same to Moonspike. "Come on, if we don't get inside soon everybeast else is going to get lunch and we're not."

The two followed the rest of the Redwallers into the main abbey, sighing in satisfaction as they moved from the cold outside to the warm and comfortable interior of the abbey. The sounds of other conversations, Dibbuns squealing, and the other parts of Redwall life entered their ears from all angles.

"Ah, here are the last two!" Moonspike and Sam suddenly found themselves enveloped in two blanket-sized masses of feathers. "Samuel, Moonspike, where have you two been?"

"Outside," Moonspike said as he pushed at the wings. "You big idiot, Bell, get off!"

"Just tryin' to dry you off, Moony!" Bell the barn owl said, chuckling as he hopped away from the pair. "Heard you two got into a bit of a tussle outside. You alright?"

"Yes, we're fine." Sam scratched behind his pointed ears, cleaning off a last bit of snow. "Just cold and, above all, hungry."

The three proceeded down the hallway towards Cavern Hole, Redwall's less formal (and warmer) dining room. Already Sam and Moonspike's noses were twitching as the familiar smell of Redwall food, fresh from the ovens, wafted through the abbey's hallways. As they reached the doorway of Cavern Hole they spotted one other Redwaller that was late; it was an otter, a male one. Short for his species, a pair of round-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his muzzle, and he wore the customary Redwall habit, though it seemed like it belonged on a creature twice his size.

"Kearn!" Sam raised a paw in greeting. "Finally down from the attic?"

The otter looked at Sam severely over the rims of his glasses. "Library, first off, and yes. I was helping Brother Maynard do some organizing."

"Old mouse does need more help these days." Moonspike shrugged. "Has he brought up when you're going to be a full Recorder yet?"

"I would wager as soon as he's no longer able to do his job." Kearn replied, shrugging back. "Either way I would imagine that'd be soon."

The four of them entered Cavern Hole together, gently threading their way through the throngs of other Redwallers and Dibbuns as they headed towards the table where the food had been set for Redwallers to pick and choose what they wanted. There was warm bread, fresh from the ovens, warm and steaming and soft to the touch. Cheeses had been rolled out from Redwall's cellars along with cordial, ale, and wine. Mushroom and cheese pasties, hot and steaming, sat side-by-side with otter shrimp-and-hotroot soup and mole deeper-'n-ever pie. Nuts, both regular and candied, were also in abundance.

Sam, Moonspike, Kearn, and Bell loaded up plates, heading to one of the corners in the room that was relatively unoccupied. There they sat and started to eat.

"So," Bell asked as he popped a nut into his beak, breaking it open with a loud crunch. "Has your father heard you're going to keep being an apprentice Recorder?"

Kearn cast a dark look over to another part of the room, where a small group of Redwall's resident otter crew stood talking to each other. "He's only let me hear what he thinks of it every time we cross paths."

"Can't really blame 'im," Moonspike muttered around a mouthful of bread. "He _is_ the Skipper, after all. Makes sense that he'd want you to succeed him instead of cooping yourself in up in the abbey all day in that dusty old gatehouse."

"Oh, leave him alone, Moony." Sam shook his head as he sucked gravy off of his paw from the pasty he'd just eaten. "Skipper Tulgrow is just going to have to find some other otter in his crew that he thinks would be best." He nudged Kearn, jostling his glasses. "Kearn certainly won't be able to take over."

"That's what I keep telling him!" Kearn replied, fixing his glasses and nudging Sam back. "But he won't listen." He looked away from Tulgrow, turning to Moonspike. "At least all you're doing is learning how to be Cellarhog."

"Yeah, bit easier than being a Skipper of Otters's son." Moonspike put a paw on Kearn's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, mate. I'm sure he'll come around."

Kearn wordlessly bit into a scone, chewing angrily. The meal continued in relative silence, the friends contenting themselves with listening to the various other conversations around Cavern Hole. They didn't even notice when Abbot Siran left the room in the company of Brother Lawrence, the abbey Gatekeeper.

"We'll be there before the first snow!" Daren's voice was filled with acidic, bitter sarcasm as Nathaniel's platoon waited in front of Redwall's great gates, wrapped in their cloaks but still shivering in the winter chill. "Yeah, that's a laugh, wot! Now we're standing out here freezing our scuts off!"

"Let it go, Daren," Gracepaw said, though she shivered as she said it. "At least we've only been trudging around in the bally stuff for one day. We're here now, so soon you can put your feet up next to a warm fire…"

"And enjoy some of that Redwall scoff!" Quill wiped a bit of drool from his mouth at the very thought. "I've heard so much about it my stomach's growling just thinkin' about it!"

Nathaniel tapped one of his large feet in the snow impatiently as he kept staring at the gate. They'd knocked on the gate earlier and drawn the attention of the Gatekeeper, so now all they had to do was wait. As he heard the conversation of the rest of his hares he turned around to them, jerking his paw back in the direction of the abbey. "Listen up, chaps! Remember, even though we'll be staying here for a while, remember that we're still only guests, wot! You're to show the same sort of respect to any Redwaller as you would to a superior officer! An' mind your table manners! This ain't the mess! Understood?"

"Yes, sah!" the platoon chorused.

Nathaniel turned back around as a loud creaking sounded from the gates. One of them opened, the sounds of straining Redwallers coming from the other side as they pushed against the thick snow. As the hares waited, a silver-furred squirrel in glasses came out of the gap and bowed to the hares. "Welcome to Redwall, my friends. I am Abbot Siran. On what occasion do we owe a visit from the Long Patrol?"

Nathaniel gave a casual salute. "'Ello there, Father Abbot. Lieutenant Nathaniel Longlegs Oakear of Salamandastron's Long Patrol. These hares behind me are my platoon. We're here on the orders of Lady Aurelia Skystripe to guard your Abbey for the foreseeable future."

"Guard it?" Brother Lawrence poked his head out from behind the door, the mouse tilting his head in puzzlement. "Guard it from what?"

Nathaniel looked up at the sky, then back at Siran. "If you don't mind m'saying, Father Abbot, maybe we should take this inside, wot?"

Siran chuckled. "Of course. I'd imagine you've all had a long journey. We've just started lunch, so you're welcome to come in and eat, if you're hungry."

"With all due respect, Father Abbot," Quinn said from back in the ranks, "We're hares! We're always hungry, wot!"

The rest of the platoon laughed, Nathaniel rolling his eyes good-naturedly as the platoon broke ranks and proceeded into the Abbey. Nathaniel fell in step next to Siran. "Lady Aurelia was quite insistent that we come here, sir."

"Yes, I thought as much." Siran looked over at the young hare. "But why? There haven't been any vermin in these parts for many seasons."

"One of our runners spotted a horde of vermin dangerously close to Mossflower." Nathaniel looked up at the abbey's main building, then back at Siran. "Lady Aurelia sent my platoon and I here to make sure that your abbey would be protected if they came this way."

"I'll have to remember to send her my thanks." Siran watched the other hares milling about. "I hope you'll be introducing me to your platoon, Lieutenant."

"Considering we're here indefinitely, that may be the case, Father." Nathaniel began pointing out individual hares. "Those two there are Starbuck and Tom. They're our two resident boxing hares. Those two twins there are Quill and Quinn. They're troublemakers, but you wouldn't want any other hares beside you in a battle. The brown 'un is Daren, our platoon's medic. The white lass is Gracey, she's our quartermaster. She's pretty, but dangerous with that lance when she wants t'be. Then we've got Sergeant Toren; he's th' leader of our skirmisher squad. There's Corporal Kendall, our resident scout. There's Rockford and Larkin over there, you won't find two hares better with a sling. Then we've got Gale, our signaler and the platoon's resident singing voice, Swiftsky, just as good with a sling as he is with his dirk, Willow, our knife aficionado, Cadoc, our runner…"

Nathaniel continued to introduce his platoon as the group entered Redwall, introducing Siran to Snow, Haris, Lavender, Brook, and the rest. As they entered the door Nathaniel took a break from speaking to the Abbot to order his hares around. "Come on, chaps, weapons at the door! We're here in good faith, remember!"

Another chorus of "Yes, sir" followed, and soon a well-organized pile of weaponry was sitting near the door, all of the platoon's bows, slings, swords, spears, and other equipment placed down with care. That done the hares followed Siran down to Cavern Hole, Nathaniel in the lead before Siran stopped them.

"If you don't mind waiting here a few minutes, I'll go introduce you. I don't think any of us expected a visit from the Long Patrol."

"Go on ahead, Father Abbot, sir."

Siran nodded, then went inside.

"Sam, if you have a moment?" Friar Bale, a mouse, interrupted Sam and his friends as he walked up with two plates of food.

"What do you need, Friar?" Sam asked.

"I was wondering if you could take both of these plates up to Rollo and Brother Song? They haven't eaten yet and they've been in the tower all day."

"Yessir." Sam put his plate aside, taking the two new ones from Bale's paws. "I'll make sure they get them."

"Good lad." Bell clapped Sam on the shoulder, and the young squirrel left Cavern Hole. As he came through the door and turned to go up the stairs to the abbey's bell tower, he turned at the sound of a large number of footpaws, pausing just long enough to see Abbot Siran leading a large group of hares through the hallway. Sam cocked his head in curiosity, but shrugged and continued up the stairs.

The stairway up to Redwall's belltower was cold, and chill winds blew through cracks in the stone. They only added to the chill that had seeped into the stone itself, and Sam shivered as he ascended the stairs. "Rollo?" he called up the stairs, towards the trap door and wooden ceiling that separated the belfry from the rest of the tower. "Brother Song? It's Sam, I brought you two lunch!"

A creaking on the floor above preceded the trapdoor being opened, and the face of a young mouse appeared in the resulting hole. The mouse's face was golden-furred like the rest of his body, and a short braid, decorated with beads and a blue jay feather, hung down past his face. Rollo the mouse's face broke into a grin. "Ha! I was wondering if Friar Bale had forgotten about us! Come on up, Sam."

Sam did so, climbing the last few stairs and sticking the plates up through the trap door before climbing up himself. As he sat down, panting lightly from the exertion of climbing the stairs, he looked up at Rollo and grinned. "Bet you both wish you were in Cavern Hole right now. It's a lot warmer down there than it is up here."

"Indeed we do," Brother Song said as he joined his son and Sam down on the floor. "But somebeast has to ring these."

The two mice began to eat, but as they did Rollo nodded his head towards the still-open trapdoor. "Dad and I saw some hares heading across the lawn towards the Abbey. Any idea of what that's about?"

"Not a clue." Sam shrugged, then wrapped himself as deep in his habit as he could, before standing up. "I don't know about the two of you, but I'm going to go back down where it's warm."

"Go on with him, Rollo," Brother Song said. "Take your food with you. I'll be fine up here."

"Are you sure, Dad?" Rollo looked back up at Matthias and Methuselah, Redwall's two great bells.

"Go on, young'un." Song ruffled Rollo's ears, chuckling. "I'll be fine. I rang those bells myself before you came along."

Rollo laughed and picked up his plate, following Sam down the stairs. "So," he said, taking a bite out of a roll. "Hares? Like, Long Patrol hares?"

"Looks like it." Sam shrugged. "Like I said, I've got no idea why they're here." The two reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the abbey proper. Soon they were close to Cavern Hole, which if anything was now in an even greater uproar than it had been when Sam left it. A variety of voices in accents he'd never heard before were chattering all at once.

"I say, Tom! Have you tried these pasties? Good, eh?"

"Och, even me auld mammy never made food this good!"

"Gracey! Gracey! How many of these chestnuts you think I can fit in m'mouth, old girl?"

"You try it and I bet you'll burst first, Grey, wot!"

"Hoi, Snow! What's that y'got there, chap?"

"Trifle, Toran! I say, d'you want some? It's top!"

Sam peeked into Cavern Hole, with Rollo doing the same below him. All thirty of the hares that Abbot Siran had come in with had packed Cavern Hole, their plates loaded higher than any Redwaller's as they chattered away to one another in between bites of anything they could reach. Some of them were instead chatting with the Redwallers and one, the one female of the bunch, was currently bouncing a Dibbun on her knee even as she packed away a salad.

Rollo and Sam looked at one another, then crept into the room. Sam sidled up next to the Abbot, leaning over to him and whispering in his ear. "Um…Father Abbot, sir…who are they?"

"Hares from the Long Patrol," Siran said, chuckling as he watched the hares eat. "They only just got here from Salamandastron."

"Are they…supposed to be eating that much?" Rollo asked, his eyes wide with shock. This made Siran laugh outright, causing both younger creatures to look at him in surprise.

"You two aren't old enough to remember the last time the Long Patrol paid a visit," he said, chuckling into his habit. "They nearly cleaned out the entire kitchen! I thought Friar Callen was going to faint at every meal!" He shook his head. "Those hares are Lieutenant Nathaniel and his platoon. They're here to stay with us for a while, at the request of their Badger Lady."

"What for?" Rollo asked. "Are there vermin around?"

"Nowhere near us," Siran replied, giving Rollo's shoulder a reassuring pat. "But they're here, just in case some decide to come this way." He looked up at Sam. "Sam, once they're done eating can you show them all to the infirmary? There should be plenty of free beds for them there."

"Yes, Father Abbot."


	4. A Day in the Snow

Nathaniel woke up the next morning to near silence. The Redwall infirmary was much quieter than the dormitories at Salamandastron, which were always a riot of activity even early in the morning. The lieutenant sat up, stretching and yawning as he blinked sleepily. None of the other hares in his platoon were awake yet, all still snoring blissfully in their beds.

Nathaniel swung his legs out of bed, shivering slightly as his footpaws touched the cold stone. Dressing himself in a plain blue tunic that he reserved for being off-duty, he stretched as he left the infirmary and entered the rest of the Abbey. There were no other Redwallers out and about either; Redwall's bells weren't even ringing.

Still yawning and stretching, Nathaniel made his way into the abbey's Great Hall. He hadn't been around Redwall much the night before; all of the Long Patrol hares had been exhausted from the journey, and had contented themselves the previous night with staying in Cavern Hole with the rest of the Redwallers, where it was warm.

As Nathaniel walked across the hall's length toward the kitchen, he found his eye drawn to the great tapestry that hung lengthwise across the Great Hall's wall. Nathaniel stopped as he looked at the tapestry, his eyes becoming fixed on the armed and armored mouse that stood in the center, among hordes of fleeing vermin.

"I see you've noticed the tapestry," a voice said from next to him. Nathaniel jumped a bit, turning his head to see Friar Bale standing next to him. The mouse raised his paws, smiling shyly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, it's alright, sah." Nathaniel turned back to the tapestry. "I say, who is that mouse anyway?"

"Oh, that's Martin the Warrior." Bale folded his paws behind his back and smiled. "He helped build this Abbey after he and his friends freed Mossflower from a wildcat." He nodded to a spot on the wall below the tapestry, where a sword sat on two racks. "That's his sword, actually, there on the wall."

Nathaniel cocked his head in puzzlement. "Y'sure, chap? Looks awfully new to be that old."

Bale shrugged. "Whether you believe it or not, that sword's been with our abbey for countless seasons." He motioned his paw towards the kitchen door. "Aside from my assistants and I, it seems you're the first awake, Lieutenant. Are you hungry?"

"Famished!"

The two proceeded into the abbey kitchens, where a small number of Redwallers were already up and about. The smells of baking bread, oatcakes, oatmeal, and hot tea were already filling the room, and Nathaniel swallowed as the smells flooded his nose. "I say, what a smashin' aroma!"

"Glad you like it, Lieutenant," said one of the kitchen helpers, an otter with a noticeably large belly, as he put a tray of oatcakes on a nearby table to cool. "Friar Bale's had us make extra for you and your platoon."

"Be sure to keep stirring that oatmeal, Hayn," Friar Bale reminded the otter as he bustled past. "We don't want it to stick to the pot, remember."

Nathaniel took a pair of oatcakes off of the tray, juggling them back and forth between his paws while he waited for them to cool off. "Is there anything I c'n do t'help, Friar, sah? I don't want t' be a bothah but if y'need an extra pair o' paws…"

"Oh, no Lieutenant, I believe we're fine here." Friar Bale set a plate, a cup of steaming tea, and a good-sized bowl on another table. "Load those up with your breakfast and just relax. You've had a long journey, no need to strain yourself."

Nathaniel shrugged and did so, piling his plate with a few oatcakes, bread, and some oatmeal before balancing everything in his paws as he entered the Great Hall. As he sat down at one of the tables the door to the hall opened again. Yawning sleepily and stretching somewhat, Samuel, Moonspike, Rollo, and Kearn all shuffled into the Great Hall.

"Morning, Lieutenant," Sam said through another yawn. "Did you sleep well?"

"We had a capital rest, thanks," Nathaniel replied, turning to face the young Redwallers. "I think your beds are even better than Salamandastron's!"

"Glad to hear it." Sam looked around the rest of the room. "Is the rest of your platoon not here?"

"No, I'm the first one up. Lads and lasses do need their rest, after we were on forced march for a week." Nathaniel took a bite out of an oatcake, chewing as he looked out of the hall's high windows. "Looks like it'll be another snowy day, wot?"

"Seems so." Sam turned to look at the windows himself. "I don't think we got any more snow during the night, though." He looked back at Nathaniel. "Once your platoon's awake, you think you'd like to join us out on the lawn?"

"Sounds like a proper idea!" said another voice from the hall's door. Willow had been the speaker, and he entered first followed by the rest of the platoon. "We never get snow over at the mountain, wot! Be a right proper thing t'have a good ol' snowball fight!"

"Oi!" Nathaniel stood up and pointed at the kitchen door. "You lot aren't goin' anywhere until you've eaten, wot! Get some scoff and get it down your gullets, _then_ you can go out and throw snowballs!"

"Yes, sir," the platoon chorused, laughing. Nathaniel chuckled too as he shook his head, while Sam slumped down next to him. The squirrel looked the hare up and down, raising a wry eyebrow. Nathaniel noticed and turned his head. "Somethin' up, mate?"

"You and your hares…aren't like I thought you'd be."

"Oh? And what's that mean?"

Sam shrugged, taking one of Nathan's oatcakes off of his plate and biting into it. "Well, I've always heard that the Long Patrol hares are some of the best warriors around. You and that mountain keep the rest of Mossflower safe from sea vermin and whatnot, but I see you and your platoon and…"

Nathaniel nodded, chuckling. "Aye, we aren't the typical Long Patrol hares." He looked over at Sam. "Tell you the truth, chap, this is our first real mission, wot! Never really been off the beach, don'tcha know."

"Really?" Sam's eyebrows rose and his tail straightened up. "I thought…I thought you were all older!"

"Older?" Quill asked, bouncing onto Nathaniel's other side and tugging the lieutenant in tight with an arm around his neck. "Why, ol' Nate here's the oldest of us all and he's only nineteen seasons, wot!"

"Aye, laddy. Barely out o' our leveret years, most of us are!" Tom shook the table as he plopped down on one of its benches. "Salamandastron 'ares learn t'fight almost as soon 's we can walk!"

"That's…wow." Sam shook his head. "I can't imagine growing up like that." He cast a look up at Martin the Warrior's tapestry, and then the sword beneath it. "We don't know any kind of life like that here at Redwall."

"Not your fault, chap." Quinn said, giving Sam a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Must be nice t'live here, not have any worries beyond what th'next day'll bring."

"Alright, you lot, enough of that talk!" Gracepaw clapped her paws together as she sat down with the rest of the platoon, glaring at the group. "Enough o' that dour talk! It's winter and it's a bright day outside! Eat yer breakfast 'n let's go outside!"

"You heard her, chaps," Nathaniel said, grinning while he turned to the rest of the hares. "Eat up quick 'n let's get out in the sun or Gracey's gonna give us all a good rap across the paws with a spoon!"

Abbot Siran smiled gently as he looked out of the Great Hall's windows down on the lawn. Down there the younger Redwallers had once again flooded out onto the lawn, and a snowball fight was in full swing. The Long Patrol hares had also joined in the fray, and the snowballers had formed two teams. The Redwallers were all hiding among the trees in the orchard, taking cover behind the frozen trunks as they hurled snowballs at the Long Patrol hares. The hares, in turn, had constructed a rough snow fort, which some of them were taking cover behind while the rest ducked and dodged around other snowballs. Even Redwall's otter crew had gone out to join the fun, turning the fight into a three-way battle as everybeast threw snowballs indiscriminately.

The sound of a wooden cane scraping on the floor drew Siran's attention to the Great Hall doorway where a mouse, his eyes peeping blearily out from behind a pair of round-rimmed glasses, was slowly making his way inside. Siran fully turned to face him, spreading his arms. "Ah, Brother Maynard! Finally down from the library?"

"Ah, who's that?" Maynard looked around, then finally managed to spot Siran. "Ah, Father Abbot! Yes, yes, I finally decided that it was time to come down. I hope I'm not too late for lunch?"

"No, my friend, not at all." Siran walked over and helped guide Maynard to the window. "You've missed breakfast, but I trust that Kearn brought you something before he went outside?"

"Ah, yes, that he did." Maynard adjusted his glasses as he and the Abbot stood beside one another, watching the snowball fight out the window. "He's a good lad."

"That he is." Siran gave a content sigh. "Did anybeast tell you we have Long Patrol hares as guests?"

"Do we now?" Maynard peered closer towards the lawn. "Ah, so we do! I was wondering why so many of our young'uns had long ears all of a sudden."

"All of them are around the same age as Kearn and his friends, interestingly enough." Siran folded his arms into his sleeves. "It's nice, having so many youngsters at Redwall again. I don't believe we've ever had so many, even when I was young."

"It does warm these old bones," Maynard said. "Makes me wish I was younger and could go out and join them."

"Me too, old friend." Siran put a paw to his chin, looking out worriedly as Nathaniel jumped on top of the hare snow fort. Siran's ears pricked up as a loud "Eulaliaaaaaa!" managed to get through the windows right before the hare lieutenant took a flying leap, landing on Skipper Tulgrow and bearing him down to the ground. Otter and hare began to wrestle one another, throwing snow everywhere as the otter crew charged the hare fortifications.

"I do worry for them, though," Siran said as he watched the battle. "I met them all when they arrived, Maynard…they're all so young. If what they're saying is true, and vermin do attack the abbey…"

"You worry that it will destroy them?" Maynard asked, looking up at Siran. "Nobeast is truly prepared for war, my friend. It is what we do within that time of crisis that defines what we truly are. And the Salamandastron hares are nothing if not brave and selfless." He looked down into the yard as Nathaniel was pinned underneath Tulgrow, only for the Skipper to be dogpiled in turn by some of the platoon's hares and a number of otters from his own crew. "For now, let them relax. If the vermin do indeed arrive, it would be better for them to go into battle with fond memories of the happy times they had here, rather than with hearts full of worry." He turned back to Siran. "And besides, aren't Log-a-Log Drifter and his shrews supposed to be arriving for the spring? They would definitely be an enormous help in dealing with these vermin."

"That they are." Siran nodded, his expression calming a great deal now that he remembered. "Thank you, Maynard, for remembering that. I'd almost forgotten in all of this hustle and bustle."

"No trouble at all, my friend." Maynard began to make for the nearest chair. "In any case, these old legs of mine are starting to wear out. What would you say to some tea and scones while we wait for lunch?"

"That sounds very nice, Brother Maynard." Siran walked off towards the kitchens, already calling for Friar Bale.

Nathaniel breathed heavily as he looked up at the cloudless winter sky, his tunic covered in snow. All around him lay the other participants in the snowball fight, with otters, hares, and other young Redwallers that had gotten caught up in the playful fight that had resulted from Nathaniel's attack on Skipper Tulgrow. Tulgrow and Nathaniel lay next to one another, after the dogpile on top of them had finally broken up.

"Well…" Tulgrow sat up, still panting heavily as he grinned down at Nathaniel. "Now that we got _that_ out of th' way…" He extended a paw. "Skipper Tulgrow. Nice t' meetcha, mister…?"

"Nathaniel." Nathaniel sat up and took Tulgrow's paw. "Lieutenant Nathaniel Longlegs Oakear, of the Long Patrol. Nice t'meet you, Skipper, sah."

Skipper stood up, helping Nathaniel to his feet. "I gotta say, I've never met a Long Patrol 'are…but you and yours can throw a mean snowball."

"T'ank ya kindly, sah!" said one of the hares where he lay. "We don't get much practice though, wot!"

"Get up, Lefty, I know for a fact you're not hurt!" Nathaniel said. The hare got up, and was soon followed by the other creatures in the yard, dusting snow off of tunics and habits. Some of the hares and otters began chatting amongst themselves, swapping names and compliments about throws.

"Hoi, dad!" A pair of younger otters around the age of Nathaniel and his platoon waded over through the snow, lifting their paws in greeting to both Nathaniel and Skipper. "You alright?"

"Just fine," Skipper said. He turned his head back to Nathaniel and gestured in the direction of both otters. "These two ruffians here are m'sons. Elek, Kay, tell th' lieutenant hello."

"'Ello there, mister lieutenant," Kay said. He was taller than his brother, and a pair of gold earrings hung from one ear in contrast to his brother's shark tooth necklace. Both were soaked in snow, their tunics damp along with their fur. "I think I got ya once."

"Hard to tell, chap," Nathaniel replied, giving the otters a lopsided grin. "I took more'n a few to th' face, wot!"

"Hey, all of you!" Bell flapped down from an open abbey window, looking around at all three groups. "Friar Bale sent me to tell you all that he's got soup ready for you, if you want to warm up after this."

"Hotroot soup, Bell?" Skipper asked with an eager smile. Bell rolled his eyes noticeably and gave Skipper a gentle swat in the head with his wing.

"Yes, you crazy riverdog, hotroot soup." Bell flinched at the great cheer the otters sent up, while Nathaniel looked at Skipper askance.

"Hotroot soup? Wuzzat?"

"Only th' best tastin' soup you'll ever eat in yore life, lieutenant!" Elek said as he wrapped an arm around Nathaniel's neck and began hauling him towards the door. "Y'gotta try it, won't be the same beast after!"

"'E's right," Kay added as he pushed on Nathaniel's back. "It'll warm ya up, too!"

"That's _somewhat_ true, I guess," Bell said as he watched the two younger otters take Nathaniel inside the abbey.

* * *

"I gotta say, Nate," Skipper said, struggling not to laugh as he watched Nathaniel guzzle an entire tankard of cold mint tea to cool his burning mouth. "Took ya a while to start t' appreciate the flavor, eh?"

"Oh, leave 'im alone, Skipper!" Rollo said from within the folds of his blanket as he ate some of the vegetable soup that Friar Bale had also made. "It's not his fault, your boys tricked him!"

"Well, I think he handled it remarkably well…at first," Abbot Siran said as he refilled Nathaniel's tankard. The hare immediately began to drain it again, while the other Long Patrol hares laughed. He patted Nathaniel on the back as the hare heaved forward, breathing heavily. His cheeks and ears flushed red, he looked up at Skipper and shook his paw at him, a fierce grin on his face.

"Come spring, chap, I'm gonna box ya into next week, wot!"

"Hey now, Nate," one of the other members of the otter crew said. "You want a piece of our Skipper, you're gonna have t' go through us!"

"An' we stand by our offisah, wot!" Quill said, jumping on one of the Great Hall's tables and shaking a fist at the otter crew. "We'll do you for that!"

"You'll _what?"_

"Enough, all of you!" Siran got between the otters and hares, waving his arms. He shook his head, smiling at the banter. "It might make an interesting event, Salamandastron hares against Redwall otters. We could hold it at the spring feast!"

"Whatever makes ya happy, Father Abbot," Skipper said, folding his arms and smirking at Nathaniel. "I'd be happy t'box this long-eared buffoon."

"Then it's settled." Siran looked from side to side, drawing the pair together. "Now, I want you both to shake paws and put this behind you. Hm?"

Both creatures stared at one another, Nathaniel arching an eyebrow while Skipper rolled his eyes. Both then shook, flashing one another genuine smiles. "Sorry, Nathaniel," Skipper said. "Gotta admit, though…"

"Yes, quite droll." Nathaniel shook his head. "But next time, challenge me t'eat something other than that soup, wot! I'll eat you under the table!"

"You're on." Skipper winked at the hare. The rest of the day, and indeed the winter, passed without incident. Days were filled with fun in the snow, while at night the Long Patrol hares regaled the Redwallers with tales of Salamandastron's badger lords and the adventures of the Long Patrol. Redwallers, in turn, told stories of Martin the Warrior and other abbey heroes. These stories, accompanied by the customary Redwall food and drink, made each night one to remember.


End file.
